


The angel and the star

by shedrovemehere



Category: DDT Pro-Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe, As usual i am sorry for who i am as a person, Canon-Typical Violence, Fairy Tale Style, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: A story to explain, to children and adults, the rituals we do when we join two lives in love.
Relationships: Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	The angel and the star

**Author's Note:**

> Although my wheelhouse is Golden Lovers fics, perhaps my favorite fic I've ever written is _The River_ (link below), about a boy named Hiromu who can hear all the stories told by things in nature. When Hiromu listens to the storysongs told by trees, rocks, insects, plants, fire, water, and more, he gets to hear the history of the world through their eyes. They are the stories that form the lore of that world; the origins for traditions and cultural beliefs—basically, they're fairy tales and legends. In the story, Hiromu lists some of his favorite storysongs, and all of them, of course, have parallels to NJPW storylines:
> 
> _The stories weren’t always about legendary events. Sometimes they were stories about the adventures of the animals or plants telling them, just their normal lives, what they had seen in their travels, or what they had learned. Some animals, like birds and dogs and cats, loved telling stories about people, and of course Hiromu liked the ones about people the best. There was one about two warriors who fought each other until they were so skilled that no other warriors could touch them. Hiromu’s favorite was about a boy who loved a cat and a dragon. There was a scary one about strange pale men with strange weapons, who tried to take over a kingdom. A sweet one about an angel and a star who fell in love. A strong king who left his life behind to find out if there was anything else, beyond this island. A man who betrayed someone he loved, and became a demon. A shining prince who defended his kingdom against a spoiled prince, a fallen angel, and the leader of a wicked, deceitful army._
> 
> I decided to try to write one of the storysongs Hiromu loved, and of course, due to who I am as a person, I the first one I attempted to tell was the sweet one, about the angel and the star who fell in love. In the Riververse, it's the origin story of their wedding/marriage traditions. Suck on that, haters; here in the Riververse, marriage is canonically and primarily gay.
> 
> You don't need to have read The River to understand this one, but some of the terminology and cultural ideas are from it (storysongs, night fires, and the idea that humans destroyed themselves in the past). However, maybe you would like to read The River? (After you read this, of course.) I promise you'll like it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263661

As you know, children, everything around us has a spirit. It's said that the lowly rocks and insects have stories to tell, if you are wise enough to listen to them. Children are wiser than adults, many times, and sometimes children say they can hear the storysongs told by everyday things, like cats and raindrops. It is rare to hear them. Some say they are not there at all. But you _have_ heard the storysongs we have been telling for a hundred lifetimes at the night fires: the ones about heavenly battles, about the empires of angels and demons; gods and kings and emperors; light, shadow, serenity, evil. Or even about the most famous cats, raindrops, and dragons. They are the storysongs about the lessons we must learn as we leave childhood.

Do you ever wonder about our traditions? Do you wonder why we do certain things when someone is born or dies; when we have a good harvest, when we go to battle, or reach old age, or set out on a voyage, or when two people join their lives in love? If you listen to the storysongs, you will learn the origins of all of our rituals. Now that you are all old enough to come to the night fire without your family, it is time to learn the story of how we join two people together.

It is, unsurprisingly, a love story. But like all good love stories, it also is about sadness and heartbreak, and about learning how to be true to yourself above all.

As you know, battles take place constantly in the heavens: it’s why we have night and day, and rain and thunder and wind. It’s how the gods and angels and natural things interact; they claim space in the heavens in their quests to become their truest selves.

This story starts with an angel who saw a very talented fighter—a star that captured his dreams.

“Please make my wings strong enough to reach the star, so I can battle him,” the angel asked of Ambition. “This star is the best I have ever seen, and I want to know the star’s secret, so I can beat him and become the best.”

Ambition saw that the angel had the potential for greatness, and she agreed to his request. “You will use these wings to beat the star,” Ambition said, “but not by flying. You will learn the secret to the star’s power, but you can never wield it for yourself.” She fashioned him two golden wings, glittering and magnificent, the feathers soft to the touch but stronger than stone. “And you will become the best; you will have all you have ever wanted,” she said. “You will even have the thing you want most in the world. But not until you fly with only one wing.”

As you know from storysongs, children, Ambition’s blessings are always given in riddles, and her blessings are never without their curses. The angel knew this, but like most who seek Ambition’s blessing, he accepted the risk in the hopes of the reward he sought. And, also like most who seek Ambition’s blessing, he secretly believed that maybe he could be the one to outwit her riddles.

On the golden wings ambition gave him, he flew to the star.

The star accepted the angel’s challenge; he agreed that they could be great rivals. But the moment the star put his hands on the angel, they felt a flow of warmth where their skin met; an exchange neither had never felt before. They felt the fire in their veins amplified by the other, as never before had either of them met someone who felt so similar. Without a word they stared at each other, and they knew instantly how powerful they could be not as opponents, but together. They both relished the energy that moved effortlessly from star to angel and back.

“We have been waiting for each other,” the star said, and it was true. In that moment, a silent promise passed between them, that they would be forever linked, that they would be bound by the energy they shared. They promised it without speaking. They barely remembered that they had fought, and the star had won.

They joined forces, the golden star and the angel with golden wings. Fueled by his alliance with the angel, the star’s light grew ever brighter. The angel, too, grew in his abilities, and they were very strong together. They defeated many challengers, and they enjoyed being together so much that they hardly felt the pain that came with constant battle.

But soon the star’s light became more brilliant than the angel could match; he could fly higher than the angel, and was more powerful in battles. The star’s light was further away than the angel was used to, and as the light shifted, the angel started to see his own shadow look strange and twisted: still his shape, but with dark wings and sneering features. The angel was afraid. The star could not bear to see the angel so far away from him, so he tried to ignore how much higher he flew, and how distant they were from each other.

The angel saw the sinister shadows more and more, and the star was overwhelmed with bigger battles than ever before. Soon they were so distant, they could no longer see each other, and they both felt terribly alone. And they both began to feel the unrelenting pain of battle that they had never felt when they were together. They each continued on alone, wandering to find purpose separately, their promise forgotten and abandoned.

It wasn’t long before the angel saw the shadows from his dreams. He realized, to his surprise, that he’d been looking for them. He was scared, but he thought of how the star’s light had once been a soothing warmth, but became a burning heat on his skin. He reached out to the shadows, and their hands on his skin felt cold and soothing. They pulled him down to the earth, where it was cold and dark. The shadows were terrifying indeed; they collected the skulls of their defeated opponents, and wore them on their black armor as a warning. Their power was in caging fire—harnessing it for destruction—and the angel was drawn to them, because he felt that fire and light had been his downfall. Controlling them would prove he was stronger than the light.

The angel felt this new power, the steely power of rage, and he felt at home as the shadows welcomed him, made him their own. They saw great power in him; he would be the one, they said, to cleanse the earth of its powerful and haughty. They told him he would prove what power shadow has over light. He believed them, because there was nothing he needed more in all of creation than to shut the light out of his heart and mind; to prove to himself that shadow could erase light, and the burning pain it represented. 

Now the angel felt the weight of his wings heavy on his shoulders, and for the first time he looked at them, their shine dulled by the blackness all around him, and he hated them. From then, he tried to keep them hidden away in darkness, so he didn’t have to look at their golden sheen, and he cursed Ambition. In his mind, they became the twisted bat wings he’d seen in the shadows for years.

One day the shadow king summoned the angel to the battlefield. “Come stand with me and prove your worth. Show us how you will wash away the light so that we shadows can rule.” The angel was ready to show his loyalty, to cleanse the light from the heavens. But when he reached the battlefield, he saw that the shadow king’s opponent was his beloved star, still shining and dazzlingly alive. The angel could hear the other shadows’ voices in his head, and they urged him on. He thought of Ambition’s words, _you will have what you want most, but not until you learn to fly with one wing_, and again his wings felt like a horrible weight; heavier than ever. He knew what he had to do. 

Just as the star knocked the shadow king to the ground and raised his hand high above his head to deliver the final blow, the angel stepped into the light. The star did not see the angel at first, but the angel felt the familiar blinding, burning effect of being in the star’s presence, and he hated the star, and himself most of all. He summoned his shadow brothers. “Take one of my wings, you shadows, so that our king may—” the words died in the angel's mouth as the star turned toward him.

The angel stared in awe at the star, who he had always loved, and he could not move. The star steeled his gaze and shook his head sadly at the angel, who was once his love; now clad in black, adorned by skulls. For a moment star and angel looked at each other, wordless, thoughtless, with a gaze so familiar it made them both hold their breaths. 

Suddenly the shadows put their arms around the angel, and at the same time the shadow king rose and engulfed the star, for a moment completely blocking his light, shrouding the world in darkness. As the shadow king dragged the star to earth, the shadows, with their cold magic, sliced off one of the angel’s wings. They held it above them like a prize, the tarnished gold looking almost black in the absence of light. They brought it to the shadow king, who threw the bloodied wing at the star, knocking him to the ground. The star collapsed into a heap of ash, all his light extinguished except the faintest glow of his heart.

The star was beaten. He lay crumbled to the ground, blood on his arms from where he’d raised them to protect himself from the discarded wing, face in his hands. Next to him lay the wing that, although it had been part of the angel’s body a moment ago, was already frail and skeletal, each bone evident. Some golden feathers still clung to the bony skin, but the ones that had fallen off had actually turned black, and were being blown by the wind, whirling around the star as he wept in sorrow, mixing themselves in with the ash that was falling around him like snow.

While the shadows celebrated their victory over the light, the angel secretly went to see where his once-beloved star had fallen. So much of him wanted to lay his head on the star’s chest and remind him of their promise, but he knew that was impossible, now that he’d proven himself to the shadow king. Instead he collected the ash from the star’s fall, and took all of it—every last flake.

He left without a look back. He even left his wing behind, next to the broken body of the star. He needed neither of them anymore.

The angel understood now what Ambition meant all those years ago: as long as he was in the shadow of the star, he wasn’t reaching his fullest power. If losing the star meant losing a wing, then losing the star was necessary to becoming all he could be—he would only be his best when he learned to fly with one wing, she had said. Now he could have everything he wanted. And now he had the thing he’d wanted most—he’d beaten the star, and just as Ambition had said, he didn’t do it by flying.

You have heard the storysongs, children. For those who can fly, as angels and stars can, ash from their downfall can, of course, be used to begin a process of rebirth. The angel took the ashes from the star’s defeat, even knowing that the star would not be reborn without them. The angel did not care—his own rebirth was long overdue, and besides, he believed the star no longer loved him.

So he used the star’s ash to color his remaining golden wing night-black; black as the death of light. And he certainly did feel reborn into new and greater power—he no longer had to stay in the dark to hide the gold, instead the whole world could see his one black wing. With his newfound power and his new friends, he reached newer and higher heights. He rose higher than the star, higher than ever. 

He conquered the shadow king, and made himself the new king of shadows, and the other shadows feared him and followed him. He conquered the most powerful men the earth had to offer, and he did not turn away anyone. He fought everyone who wanted to see his terrifying power up close, from samurai to kings to thieves.

But he was from the heavens; men were no match for him. Only the star and the gods had ever given him a real fight, and so he set out to conquer the heavens as well. 

It was the rain that finally stopped him. Rain was powerful, omnipresent, overwhelming. The angel became obsessed with conquering the rain. It was the thing he wanted most, though the shadows he led told him it could not be done; they said it would kill him. But even though the battles were more painful than any he'd experienced before, he wasn’t afraid of dying; he barely felt fear anymore. He was only truly afraid a few times, when the rain washed away some of the ash covering the gold of his wing, and to his horror, the feathers still glittered in the light.

The battles between the rain and the angel became legendary, and even now, we tell stories of how they fought until no one else could touch them. The angel earned the rain’s respect, but he could not beat the rain. He worried day and night about Ambition’s prophecy—he had learned to fly with one wing, so why couldn’t he beat the rain? Why didn’t he have what he now wanted most?

* * *

After losing the battle with the shadow king, the star did not have the ashes of his failure to help him regenerate. He took the closest thing he could find: the angel’s discarded wing, now bony and shrunken. He could never make himself believe that the angel had _really_ changed, so he clad the wing to his hip, hoping it could help him find a way to start over. It was all the star brought with him as he wandered the heavens and the earth, searching for direction. He, too, battled anyone who would fight him.

Children, you have certainly heard the stories about stars. Maybe you know the saying: “who finds the heart of a star may chart its course”? Stars are eternal, and almost infinitely powerful—more powerful, even, than gods and angels. All of that power is contained in the star’s heart, and every star has something unique there—one word, one concept—that fuels them.

That means the knowledge of a star’s heart is very dangerous. If you ask a star, ‘what fuels you?’ the star cannot answer you. The power of the star speaking the word aloud, to someone who does not already know it, is pure incinerating light that even gods cannot withstand.

You can only learn the heart of a star by observing it, and whoever learns—and names—the source of a star’s power gives that star’s path a purpose. Most stars search for those in heaven and on earth who are worthy of their hearts.

This is how stars become symbols for us—maybe a certain star signifies luck, another danger. One star’s heart could be malice, another one mercy. Once we have found the heart of the star, we guide our ships by them, we use them to divine the fortunes of kings and gods and thieves. They grant wishes. Stars believe that there is great power in service to others. They speak of the peace that comes when their course is charted.

But this star, our star in this story, felt a deep dread when he thought about someone charting his course. He felt like a broken star: many had tried to know his heart, and every time, he wanted desperately to belong, to be filled with joy at all of the ships he could guide, the wishes he could grant, or the stories he could inspire. But that feeling never came. And so, finding no place to belong, the star returned to the Dawn Empire. He had nothing to show for his travels, and was still no closer to regeneration.

While the star had been gone, of course, the angel had become the shadow king. But the angel had a secret he was hiding from everyone; a secret he wished he could hide even from himself: he did not want to be the shadow king anymore. Even more, he wanted to find the star again, and that was the secret he wanted to hide most of all. He had become consumed by denial; his life was an act, and all his words were lies.

All of the shadows, even the angel’s closest friends, were fooled by the angel’s facade—except one. The arrogant nightmare prince, because he was the fallen son of dreams, had the power to see into the dark dreams that haunted every heart he encountered. He had seen the angel’s secrets, and he wanted to use them to become the shadow king.

The prince had also seen the star’s dreams, and he believed he had learned the heart of the star. He knew stars very well, because before his fall, he had hidden his wickedness by pretending to be a star. And not only did he know the angel’s secret, he knew the humiliation of living in the shadow of someone the world saw as golden. He would use his knowledge of the star and angel’s secrets to take control of both of them, force them to destroy each other, and take power. He would command both light and darkness; rule the shadows and be the one to finally chart the course of the famously wandering star.

And so one day the prince, leading a group of shadows, attacked the star, and the star was overwhelmed. The angel hurried to the battlefield to see what was happening.

“I have learned the heart of the star, angel,” sneered the prince. “Haven’t I, star?” The star weakly raised his head, but otherwise said nothing.

“No, you haven’t,” said the angel confidently, and he immediately wished he had not said it. All the shadows stared at the angel in shock; they saw that the angel was divided in his loyalties. Now all the shadows could see the angel's deepest secret, the thing the prince had already discovered when he walked through the the angel’s darkest dreams: the angel had loved the star all along.

The prince laughed. “Oh, and how would _you_ know?”

The angel was silent, seething at the trap the prince had laid for him.

“That’s what I thought.” The prince smirked dismissively, because he had seen the star’s nightmares, too, and he had learned that the star had loved the angel all along, just as the angel had loved him. “Learn this, dear angel: the heart of this star is hope. Isn’t that obvious?” The star’s eyes opened wide, but he still said nothing.

The angel ran at the prince, and the prince, feeling the power of knowing the heart of the star, subdued him, and threw the angel away from him.

The angel fell and slid across the ground, and as he did, large patches of the ash on his wing came off. He noticed to his shock that the feathers were more brilliantly gold than they’d been in years, and he was afraid.

“Now I will take my rightful place as shadow king,” said the prince, and the other shadows obeyed him, leaving the broken star behind so they could attack the angel.

The shadows, commanded by the prince of pride, leered down at the grounded angel, and the angel fought to get to his feet. As the shadows closed in on him, a brilliant light shined from behind them.

It was the star, burning as brightly as he could. Even in his weakened state he was brighter than most stars; he was a terror, his beautiful face now starkly determined and frightening. When the angel had lost some of the black covering his golden wings, the star had seen it, and he knew then that he had been right all along; that the one-winged shadow king was still the same angel he had always loved. It filled him with determination. The star stood defiant between the shadows and the angel. He glared at the prince, and said simply, “you are wrong.”

The shadows could not withstand this light. The prince _was_ wrong, he was humiliated and defeated; he had _not_ learned the heart of the star after all. When he and his underlings saw the light shining from the star, and felt the power radiate from him, they ran away in fear.

The star stood over the angel. “Take my hand,” the star said calmly, reaching to touch the angel. “Please.”

The angel stubbornly pulled himself to his feet, although he could barely stand. He hid his face in shame. All he wanted was to take the star’s hand, but he remembered how the star’s heat had burned his skin until the heat consumed him. He wept bitterly, and would not look at the star. “No.”

“Look at me!” the star seethed. His voice was bright with righteousness. “See me!” Even as he spoke his light was dimming. He was still damaged, and he’d used all his energy to chase away the shadows.

The angel turned away once again, not wanting the star to see his face shatter into sobbing grief, at losing his friends and looking weak and lowly in front of them—and, even worse, in front of the star.

The star shoved the angel, forcing them to face each other. But when they touched, it didn’t burn or sting. A long-forgotten flow of warmth filled them both. And it was more than warmth. Calm. Peace, like they’d never felt in their lives. A stillness they both had longed for, the same stillness that felt like incredible power, the first time they touched, all those years ago. Only possible when their skin met. 

All at once they embraced with furious energy, both sobbing with relief. The peace and warmth of being known, being loved and cherished, flowed through them.

The angel wrapped his wing around the star. Most of the ash had been rubbed off by the fight with the shadows, or washed away with the rain, but what was left over rubbed off onto the star’s body. As soon as the ash touched the star, he felt himself begin to heal at last, and his power begin to return. And he noticed that the wing at his hip felt warm, and when he looked down, the once-black feathers were more dazzlingly gold than they had ever been.

As the wing on the star’s hip shone brighter, the angel felt a warm tingling at his wingless shoulder, a pulse of power and energy. When he looked behind him, there was no wing there—he still only had one wing. But his body felt as though he had two wings once again, like he was whole.

The angel and star stared at each other, astonished. Immediately, the angel grabbed the star’s hand, and took off flying straight up in the air, freer than he’d ever felt. He’d gotten so far on one wing, and having the second wing, even if it was only there in his mind, made him more deft and sure and strong. Higher and higher he flew, the star now trailing behind him. He flew until he reached the rain, and the rain was ready for him, and knocked him down.

As he lay on the ground, he felt that calming power he felt in the star’s embrace—he felt it as a strong warmth on his shoulder, where his second wing used to be. As he got to his feet, he realized that he had been wrong about what Ambition’s riddle had meant all those years ago: he had learned to fly with one wing, yes, but he was only truly his best when he could feel the other one there with him; a symbol of being loved—and of feeling like he deserved to be loved. He flew at the rain, wrapping his shining wing around the rain’s waist until the rain was beaten. And he did not feel the pain of the battle, this time.

As the angel stood victorious, he realized that, as Ambition had said, he had what he wanted most in the world, and it was _not_ the victory over the rain. That was meaningless, compared to the thing he always secretly knew he _really _wanted most.

He turned to the star and said, “I have beaten the only one who was better than I was. I am the best now.” Just as Ambition had promised.

The star truly was amazed that the angel had gotten so skilled, even more skilled than the star himself. “You have always been the best to me,” the star said, a little sadly.

“I am the best _because of_ you. Now I know what it means to fly with one wing.” He wrapped his arms around the star. They held each other tightly, they kissed the tears from each other’s cheeks and lips, and they didn’t let go for a very long time.

After a while, the angel asked, “why did you come back, when I hurt you so much?”

“I hurt you, too,“ said the star. “I have been all over creation, and I learned that it was terrible to hurt because of you, but I hurt so much more without you.”

“I learned that too,” said the angel, and although he’d been fighting that secret for years, it felt effortless to say, now.

“I was offered fame, power, wealth beyond imagining,” said the star. “I fought them all, everyone who wanted to show me the course they’d planned for me; how great I could be. I was tempted many times, of course. I traveled across the sea, my love, to try to forget you. I met the god of wealth and control, and he begged me to stay in his kingdom, offered me anything I wanted, if I would follow his path. Here, the god of love and energy pleaded with me to become his acolyte; the path he showed me would have meant certain success and glory. I could be anything I wished. A general, a tiger, a phoenix.” 

The star angrily brought his wrists together in front of his face. “Chains! They offered me chains.” The anguish on his face was still fresh. “They _never_ knew my heart.” He brought his arms down, wrists still held together, and made a gesture like offering them to the angel.

The angel hesitated, but slowly reached for the star’s wrists. “I… I would never want to see you bound, beautiful star.”

“No,” the star said, smiling. The angel took both wrists, and held them as the star moved them apart, then moved his body closer to the angel, pressing against him, resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. “You know my heart.”

When someday you, children, find your life’s love, and make the vows around the night fires to share a hearth and home, remember this story, because the love that the star and the angel felt for each other was so strong that it lives on now, and will throughout all of time. Even today, when two people pledge their love and loyalty to each other, we tell the story of the star and the angel.

“When I was on the other side of the sea,” the star said, “I met the strong king who traveled from here to seek his fortune. Even he asked me to consider the offers from the gods.”

Children, you remember this king from the storysongs, don’t you? You will recall, his journeys made him very wise, but he went slightly mad as well.

The star continued, “he had already seen my heart, long ago, when we fought on this side of the sea. But even he did not see it as quickly as you did. No one ever has. You saw it the moment we met.”

“He said, ‘golden star, do _you _even know what your heart really is?’ because he did not want to name my heart—he was uninterested in charting the course of stars. I said, ‘yes, my heart is freedom.’”

Children, remember that a star speaking the name of their heart aloud, to someone who does not know it, is too powerful for any being to withstand. But it did not hurt the angel to hear the word. As the star said, the angel had known it for a long time.

The star said, “the king asked me, ’then what does freedom mean?’ I told him, ‘freedom means I can search for happiness anywhere.’”

“He laughed at me. ‘You are _lost_, golden star, not free. Tell me, what is the difference between being free and being lost?’”

“I told him I did not know, and he called me a liar. ‘You wear it at your hip and you cannot hide it on your face.’ But I did not know what he meant.”

“I kept searching the world for the way to chart my course. You, of course, knowing my heart, always had the power to do it. But you knew, even though I had to go across the sea to learn it: a heart that lived for freedom meant I would never want _anyone_ to chart my path. I alone choose my path, and I choose to return to you. As I always will.”

“I would rather you never return,” said the angel, “because I would rather you never leave.”

The star smiled sadly. “I wish that too, but you know it will not be so.”

The angel knew it was true. “Ambition calls us both,” he agreed. “You will wander the heavens, and I the earth. But we made a promise to each other.”

The star nodded in agreement, and together they decided to make the promise again—out loud this time.

“I would be honored to share in your joys and your burdens,” the angel began. “We will make each other better, we will give each other wings, as long as we live.” The angel rubbed his hand in the remaining ash on his wing. He touched his shoulder where his wing once was, leaving an ashy mark there, and did the same with the star’s shoulder. “I will stand by your side. And even when I cannot, I will still lend you my strength through our shared heart.” He placed his hand over the star’s heart, again leaving a mark there in ash, and did the same over his own heart.

The star nodded. “I would be honored to share in your triumphs and your failures,” he said. “We will make each other stronger, we will give each other peace, as long as we live.” He took the last of the ash from the angel’s wing, and marked his heart with it, and then the angel’s. “I will stand by your side. And even when I cannot, I will always return to you.” He marked the angel’s shoulder, and then his own, with the ash.

Children, you are clever, and by now you have surely figured out that this is why, when we join two lives, we use ash to seal the promise and ensure it endures, and why the two who are being joined make marks on each other’s hearts and shoulders. As you know if you have seen this ceremony, each person to be joined brings something they have owned for a long time to burn in the night fire; a small sacrifice to signify a new beginning. The couple stays alone with the night fire, until it burns out completely. Then they collect the ash, and use it to renew their promise to one another, whenever they need to.

The star said, “I know now what the strong king meant, when he asked me the difference between being lost and being free. To be honest, I think I knew the answer then, but I was too afraid that I was wrong. Now I know I am not wrong: true freedom is knowing you are loved exactly as you are, for exactly what you are. You always knew my heart. And you loved me for it.”

“My sweet, precious star,” the angel said, smiling, “what choice did I have? All of creation can see how brightly you shine.” 

“But you were the only one who loved what burned in me. You were the only one who didn’t care what I _could be_, because you loved me for what I _am_,” said the star. “And you knew my heart from the very beginning. You wanted the light because of the star, and not the other way around, like all who tried to tame me.”

“At first I wanted the light, too,” admitted the angel. “But I quickly came to love the star. The only one who didn’t care what I tried to pretend to be, because you knew _my _heart from the very beginning,” said the angel. “And you loved me for what I am.”

The star laughed, and said, “whatever you are, it’s perfect to me.” 

Children, if all those words sound familiar, it’s because we tell this story—and say some version of those words—around the night fires when we bind two lives together in love. It is the same eternal love that the star and the angel shared. Like a river it flows uninterrupted through time; the same love that created the universe, the same love that all who pledge themselves to their partners will share. It is also the same love that you feel for your friends and family, the same love that commands us to show kindness to strangers, to forgive whenever we can, to righteously seek justice for the oppressed, and to take care of the grass, trees, rocks, seas, and animals, so that people will never again destroy ourselves with greed.

We tell the story of the angel and the star so we will remember that true love can light the heavens and chase away shadows, and that freedom is being loved for who you are.

Remember especially, children, the words you are about to hear—they are the final words you will say to your life’s love at the night fire, to seal your hearts together. They are the very same words the star and the angel said, when at last they found each other again after searching the world:

“Whatever I am, you are my wings.”

“Wherever I go, you are my heart.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, this one made me really uneasy, because it's so earnest—most of my fic is meta + porn, and this is just a straightforward archetypal love story. I also felt weird about it because it's making some Declarations about That Which Love Is. No story could ever fully encapsulate the perfect definition of love, and this one certainly doesn't. I didn't really set out to do that, either, it's just that a fairy tale that sets the tone for a culture's stories about love and marriage is bound to be making some assertions about Ideal Love, and I don't like that, but I wanted to tell the story. Anyway, I just hope that you enjoyed it and didn't find the inevitable plot holes too glaring. Still, if this sets off badfeels for any reason, or if you just have critiques, feel free to leave a comment about it or let me know some other way. Thank you for reading! And thank you Alexia for your input and support! <3


End file.
